


Paint My Reverie

by afterthenovels



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Artists and subways, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 12:56:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8980654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afterthenovels/pseuds/afterthenovels
Summary: For this prompt from Tumblr's Prompt-A-Klainefic, with a few tiiiiiny changes.Artist!Blaine and Kurt meet on the subway. Blaine is always drawing in his sketchbook, and Kurt thinks nothing will ever happen between them. Thank goodness for brush related accidents and Elliott Gilbert, though.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Deutsch available: [Paint My Reverie -- Male meinen Traum](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12219696) by [Klaineship](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Klaineship/pseuds/Klaineship)



> The title is from Norah Jones’s _Painter Song_.
> 
> A huge thank you to [blackrose1002](http://archiveofourown.org/users/blackrose1002/pseuds/blackrose1002), who cheered me on and encouraged me when I felt like I had no words to write. ♥

”So tell me,” Kurt starts as he discreetly checks his reflection in the shop window they are just walking past –- yep, his hair is still impeccable, good job with the hairspray this morning. “Why are we going to this art supply store again?”

“I told you, I need new brushes,” Elliott says and side-eyes Kurt. “Mostly because a certain someone used my old brushes without my permission to paint the new kitchen chairs and then left them out to dry exactly like they’re _not_ supposed to be dried and effectively ruined them all.”

Kurt can feel his cheeks flushing red. “I said I’m sorry, okay? Are you ever going to let me live that one down?”

“Not until you pay for my new brushes,” Elliott replies and shrugs his shoulders as if he hasn’t told Kurt repeatedly how expensive good paintbrushes can be. Damn him.

“You said you like how the chairs look now,” Kurt grumbles.

Elliott nods. “I did, and I do. They really bring the kitchen together.” He stops at a red light and turns to face Kurt, raising his eyebrows. “But I don’t leave my brushes out to dry for you to borrow them, Kurt.”

“I know, I know,” Kurt sighs. “I was just finally struck by inspiration and didn’t want it to go away while I was looking for brushes. I’m sorry, I really am. I’ll pay for your new brushes, I promise –- just please don’t get the most expensive ones.”

“I won’t.” Elliott grins as the light changes. “But I’m not buying the cheapest, either.”

Kurt almost lets out another sigh, but he knows he has brought this one on him all by himself. When they became roommates, Elliott told him very clearly that he would appreciate it if Kurt would stay away from his painting supplies –- he needs them for school, and they are pretty delicate if not handled properly. But when Kurt finally knew how he wanted to paint those chairs he found at the second-hand store, he didn’t even stop to think. He has handled brushes before, so how difficult could it be? Just paint with them and then wash them, no biggie. How was he supposed to know that he should have cleaned the brushes right after using them and that he shouldn’t have left them with the hairs down in a cup of water? Why didn’t McKinley High’s art lessons teach him that instead of all those dull lessons about art history?

“Anyway, what I was actually asking was why we’re going to this particular art supply store,” he goes on, trying to keep up with Elliott’s brisk walk. “Aren’t there stores closer to the campus? This is almost on the other side of the city.”

“There are,” Elliott admits, “but this one actually gives a student discount to all students, no matter what their major is. The other stores just give a discount to art majors. And since you’re paying for my brushes and you’re not an art major...”

“I get it,” Kurt interrupts him, a bit more loudly than he intended to. He doesn’t need any more reminders of all the money he’s going to have to spend to fix his mistake. He can definitely say goodbye to that new sweater he has been drooling over for weeks. And he had already decided which jeans and shoes he could’ve worn with it!

What a tragedy. Truly.

“I just hope it’s not too far away,” he adds. “I have a coffee date later, and I don’t want to be late.”

Elliott stops in his tracks so suddenly that Kurt almost collides with his back.

“Kurt Hummel, you sly dog,” Elliott drawls as he turns around to face Kurt. His grin is so lecherous that Kurt feels uncomfortable just looking at it. “You asked him out and didn’t even tell me.”

Kurt frowns. “Who him?”

Elliott slaps his arm. “That guy from the subway! The one you’ve been gushing about for weeks already –- you know, the one who’s always drawing something in his sketchbook.”

Kurt can feels his cheeks heating up yet again. “Sorry, no. My coffee date is with Rachel, and I don’t want to be late because she always gets so insufferable if I’m even a minute late.”

He takes a step to the side and tries to continue walking, but Elliott blocks his path again.

“Are you telling me that you still haven’t asked that guy out?” Elliott asks, jabbing a finger against Kurt’s chest. What is it with him and the sudden violence against his roommate? “You have been drooling over him for so long, and you’ve said that he always smiles at you when your eyes meet or whatever. What gives?”

Kurt slaps his hand away. “Look, I don’t even know his name or anything. I don’t even know if he’s gay! Talk about awkward.” He rolls his eyes and keeps walking before Elliott can stop him again.

The truth is, he does want to ask the subway guy out. Pretty desperately, even. He has been living in New York for over a year already, but no one has caught his eye quite the way the boy on the subway has. Sure, there have been a few cute guys who have had the same class or two with him, and of course there was Adam with his lovely British accent, who seemed to be very interested in him, but all of them have felt... wrong, in some way. Too serious, too confident, too full of themselves, too something or not enough something else. And so many of them seemed to be interested in nothing else but a one-night stand, or a regular one-night stand, which is definitely not something Kurt is looking for. New York hasn’t forced the romantic out of him yet.

But the boy on the subway... He caught Kurt’s eye the moment he happened to look up from his phone during one dull and gray morning when he was on his way to class and felt like someone was staring at him. The boy sitting opposite him in the subway car had dark hair with a bit too much gel in it, soft eyes and eyebrows that were almost shaped like triangles, and Kurt could see a colorful bowtie peeking out between the collars of the boy’s coat. When the boy realized that he had been caught staring, he just smiled apologetically and turned back to the sketchbook in his lap, the pencil in his hand moving over the paper as if he was drawing something, and Kurt spent the rest of the subway ride trying to figure out what exactly the boy was drawing –- and almost missed his stop because of it.

They have been taking the same subway for at least two months already, once or twice a week, and Kurt has started to anxiously wait for those mornings when he gets to see the boy again. They’ve never said a word, just smiled at each other quietly, and then the boy always goes back to his drawings, only glancing up at Kurt every now and then, his smile a bit shy. Kurt’s stop is before the boy’s, so he doesn’t even know where the boy could be going, and every morning he promises himself that this time he’ll open his mouth and say something, say anything –- even a simple ‘hi’ would do –- but every single time he chickens out when he sees the boy bent over his sketchbook with his eyebrows adorably furrowed in concentration.

Because like he said to Elliott –- talk about awkward. He doesn’t even know if the boy is gay, or if he’s just being polite by smiling at the stranger that rides the same subway as he does. And with Kurt’s luck, he’s probably straight and spends those subway rides drawing portraits of his beautiful girlfriend. Ugh.

Better dream than be disappointed by someone too something or not enough something yet again.

“Come on,” Elliott whines as he jogs up to catch him. “Please just ask him out already. What’s the worst that could happen?”

 _He says no_ , Kurt thinks. _He says no and turns out to be one-hundred percent straight and is completely weirded out by me asking him out and starts using another subway just to stay away from the crazy gay guy who first stared at him like a creep for weeks and then tried to ask him out when he was just trying to be productive during his subway rides and draw nice pictures that he could give as a present to his gorgeous girlfriend on their five-year anniversary_.

“I don’t know,” he says out loud. “I just don’t feel like asking him out would be a good idea.”

“But you do think talking about him endlessly and staring off into the distance every morning until your roommate starts to suspect that you’ve lost your mind is a good idea?” Elliott points out, raising his eyebrows.

“Shut up.” Kurt looks around, deliberately trying to figure out something else to talk about than his most likely unrequited crush. He loves Elliott, but sometimes he can be a bit insufferable, especially about Kurt’s love life. Or lack of it, to be precise –- Elliott can’t seem to understand that not everyone is as confident as he is. How did Kurt even end up with so many insufferable friends? “Are we close to that store already?” he asks.

“Yeah, it’s right here, actually.” Elliott gestures towards a store in the corner of an older building on the other side of the road. The store’s window seems to have several easels propped up in it, plus a few canvases, palettes and open cases of paints.

“Huh.” Kurt blinks as they cross the road. “It really wasn’t that far, then.”

“Don’t think we’re finished talking about the subway guy, though,” Elliott says and reaches for the shop’s door handle. “Once you’ve paid for my brushes, we’ll definitely get back to the topic.”

Kurt groans but follows Elliott into the shop. As soon as the door closes behind him Kurt is assaulted by the smell of different paints and different types of paper and fabric, the smell that he has come to associate with all the times he has been to Elliott’s room in their tiny apartment –- but only ten times stronger. The store isn’t that big, but all that small space has been stuffed full of different art supplies, the tall shelves almost bursting with them, and Kurt quickly realizes that he has no idea what most of the things he sees on the shelves are even for. He doesn’t even know which paints Elliott prefers, even though they have been friends for over a year already.

No wonder he was able to ruin Elliott’s brushes beyond repair. And no wonder he’s scared to talk to the boy on the subway, who obviously has some sort of an artistic flair, judging by the sketchbook and the way he seems to spend all of his subway rides drawing instead of just fiddling with his phone like most people. If Kurt talked to the boy, he would probably end up saying something completely ridiculous about art, something that would immediately make it clear that he has no idea what he’s talking about, and then the boy would look at him like an idiot and–-

“The brushes are over there,” Elliott interrupts his inner turmoil. “I’ll check them out and come find you when I’m done, okay? Don’t get lost.”

Before Kurt gets the chance to answer, Elliott has already disappeared between the shelves and left him standing near the register all by himself.

The store is almost eerily quiet, so Kurt just stays put and rocks on his heels for a few minutes, hoping that Elliott won’t take too long with those brushes. It soon becomes clear, however, that Elliott is definitely going to be taking his sweet time choosing his new babies, as he has sometimes called them, so Kurt figures he might as well take a look around while he waits for him. He can’t see any employees around, but someone is humming quietly at the back of the shop, so there must be someone there.

He starts wandering towards the opposite direction that Elliott disappeared in, trying to make sense of the different paints he comes across. He can recognize oil paints and watercolors and acrylics, but that’s where his knowledge ends, and by the time he reaches a shelf that’s full of paints that look like powders he just has to stop and stare for a moment. It’s fascinating –- he always liked art lessons in school, even though pencils were more of his thing than paints, and the colors he sees on the shelves are gorgeous. There’s something almost a bit romantic about the shop’s atmosphere –- all those paints and brushes and pencils and crayons just waiting to be used to create beautiful landscapes and portraits and modern art, all the possibilities, and it’s pretty close to the feeling Kurt himself gets whenever he’s leafing through piles of sheet music. It’s all art, anyway, just in a different form.

There’s an open doorway at the back of the shop, and when Kurt stops to peek in, he notices that it leads into a small room with white walls, a bit like an old storage space. The room is empty save for a long bench right in the middle of it, and the walls are full of black and white pencil sketches and paintings with vibrant colors, all of them framed and hung carefully on the walls. Kurt leans back and looks at the door again, only now noticing a sheet of paper taped on it.

 

_DAILY MOMENTS_

_by_  
_B. Anderson_

 _All the works are for sale_  
_–- please ask an employee for more details_

 

Curious, Kurt steps into the room, taking in the paintings right in front of him first. It’s obvious that the person who painted them, this B. Anderson, is good -– Kurt can recognize familiar New York landscapes in three of the paintings, all of them painted so well that it feels like he could step into the painting on the left and end up in Central Park for real. The colors are strong and lively, and when Kurt leans closer he can notice tiny details on the landscapes: a man feeding ducks by the pond, a woman talking on the phone, two little kids playing football. He smiles at them, noting that that’s probably where the title for the exhibition comes from.

The other side of the room is dedicated to pencil drawings, all of them portraits of people who don’t seem to be aware of someone drawing them. The pictures look like old black and white photographs, some of the lines deliberately faded so that the people look like they were drawn decades ago, even though most of the subjects are either using a smartphone or a tablet or listening to music on their headphones. It’s a clever contrast, between the past and the present, and Kurt turns around in the middle of the room, coming face to face with the works he couldn’t see earlier from the doorway.

And then he stops.

There, right between a portrait of a young girl with her headphones on and a picture of an older man talking to a young boy, is his face. _Kurt’s_ face. His profile, to be exact, hair swept up high and his eyes cast downwards to stare at the phone in his hands. All the familiar details are there –- the small scar on his neck, the pattern of his fall coat, the light freckles on his cheek and nose, the small smile on his lips that he’s seen in a few photographs before, as if he’s thinking about something that makes him happy. Something, or someone.

Kurt steps closer, feeling his heart beating loudly in his chest. The sketch is amazing –- it looks exactly like him, and it makes him look beautiful, ethereal even, as if it’s a photograph a professional photographer has taken of him, and for a moment he can’t understand how this small art supply store can have a picture of him hanging on its walls. He doesn’t know any Andersons -– or does he? Has Elliott drawn a picture of him and then used a fake name to showcase it? Or has one of Elliott’s artist friends used him as a model without him knowing about it?

Kurt looks at the other drawings, trying to make sense of them, and then it suddenly hits him. Daily moments. All the people in the pencil drawings are sitting or standing still, the outlines of a window barely visible behind them, their eyes focused somewhere else than the person drawing their portrait, as if they’re obviously just trying to kill time before they reach their destination.

They were all drawn on the subway.

Kurt swallows, his heartbeat getting even faster and louder. It can’t be. How could it be? He’s being ridiculous, he can’t actually believe that the–-

He leans closer to his portrait and notices the small plaque next to it, with the name of the drawing written on it:

 

_Morning Reverie (pencil, 2016)_

 

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t notice you earlier! I see you’ve found our small gallery–-”

Kurt turns around at the sound of a voice behind him, surprised and a little startled, and comes face to face with a young man wearing an apron that clearly says that he’s an employee. He has dark hair with a bit too much gel in it, soft eyes, and eyebrows that are almost shaped like triangles -- and a bright, colorful bowtie with rainbows on it around his neck.

It’s him. The boy from the subway.

Kurt can hear the echo of his heartbeat in his ears, fast and loud and deafening.

The boy’s mouth drops open when he sees Kurt, the words he was about to say falling away. He looks behind Kurt, at the portrait of him, as if to make sure, and then back at Kurt, his eyes wide and surprised.

“It’s you,” he breathes out.

Kurt blinks. “I... I feel like I should be saying that to you right now,” he stutters out.

The boy finally manages to close his mouth and takes another step further into the room. “I’m... I’m sorry, it’s just...” He huffs out a laugh, and _oh_ , he has such a nice laugh, all soft and musical. “It’s just so weird, seeing you here. I didn’t–-”

“There you are!” Elliott’s voice comes from the doorway as he barges in, hands full of stuff –- not just brushes, but other painting supplies as well. “I thought you had run off already or something. I found the brushes, so we can–-”

His words get cut off when he notices Kurt and the boy standing still in the middle of the room. He frowns, looks at them both, and then seems to see the portrait behind Kurt. His eyes widen almost comically, and then he looks between Kurt and the boy again.

“What is–- Oh. _Oh_!” Elliott gasps and points at the boy. “You’re the–- Oh my god. Ignore me, I’m gone, I wasn’t even here,” he says quickly and then backs out of the room before Kurt even realizes it.

“I’m... guessing he’s your friend?” the boy asks after a quiet pause, a little unsure. “He just spent about ten minutes caressing our brush section. It looked intense.”

Kurt sighs and resists the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. “That’d be him. Sorry about that.”

“No, it’s okay,” the boy says quickly. He shuffles his feet a little and glances towards the doorway –- and how hadn’t Kurt noticed before how long his eyelashes are? That’s just criminal. “I... I think I should probably be the one saying sorry, to be honest,” the boy adds and scratches the back of his neck.

Kurt frowns. “Why’s that?”

“I just... I’m Blaine, by the way,” the boy –- Blaine -– says. “The B. Anderson mentioned on the door, to be exact.”

“So I figured.” Kurt smiles, feeling a little more comfortable now that he has a name to go with the face. “I’m Kurt. Kurt Hummel.”

“Kurt,” Blaine repeats, smiling around the name. He has a nice way of saying Kurt’s name, all soft and careful. “It’s nice to meet you, Kurt.”

“You too, Blaine.”

They just smile at each other for a while, until Blaine seems to remember what he was about to say earlier and shakes his head, as if coming out of a trance. “Anyway, about the apology –- I think I should be the one to apologize. For... You know. The portrait.”

He gestures towards the drawing, and Kurt glances at it, once again struck by how beautiful and accurate it is. “Why on earth would you want to apologize for it?” he asks, almost feeling defensive all of a sudden.

“I don’t know, isn’t it... a bit creepy?” Blaine tries, taking a few steps towards the pencil drawings. “I mean, they all are, in a way, because the people in them didn’t know that I was drawing them, but–- They were just supposed to be these silly sketches, something to do to pass the time, but then Mrs. Williamson –- she’s the owner –- she liked them so much that she wanted me to showcase them as well, and... Well, I did.” He shrugs his shoulders a little. “So I’m really sorry if it makes you feel uncomfortable in any way, and–- and obviously, if you want to, I can take it down–-”

“No!” Kurt interrupts him, so loudly that Blaine even jumps a little. “Sorry, just–- please, don’t apologize,” Kurt goes on, reaching his hands out towards Blaine. “I’m not creeped out, not at all. I’m... a bit flattered, actually,” he confesses. “And amazed at how beautiful you managed to make me look like.”

“But you are beautiful,” Blaine blurts out and immediately slams a hand over his mouth.

“W-what?” Kurt’s heart skips a beat in his chest.

“Sorry, we’ve definitely crossed over to creepy now,” Blaine says, lowering his hand, his ears a little red. “But just... You are beautiful,” he says softly. “That’s why I wanted to draw you. I spent so many hours just trying to get your smile right, to be honest.”

Kurt looks down, a little flustered. “Thank you. You... You did a really good job.”

Blaine takes a step closer to him, tilting his head as he tries to meet Kurt’s eyes. “So you’re... You’re not creeped out or anything?”

“Definitely not.” Kurt looks at the portrait and then takes a deep breath. Blaine already called him beautiful, and that must mean something, _anything_ , really –- and if he doesn’t speak up now, he might as well give up on romance for good. “I... I actually spent my subway rides trying to desperately figure out what you were drawing. So this is a really nice surprise.”

“Really?” Blaine’s smile widens into a breath-taking grin. “That’s... Wow.” He lets out another laugh and pushes his hands into the pocket on his apron. “Would you... Um. Would you like to have it? The portrait, I mean. For free, of course.”

“Oh, no, I couldn’t–-”

“I insist,” Blaine interrupts with another smile. “I’ve always liked the idea of giving my portraits to the people actually in them, and if you really think it’s a good piece–-”

“I think it’s amazing,” Kurt points out, making Blaine’s smile widen again. “I m-mean, you’re amazing. All of these portraits are gorgeous.”

Blaine blushes, and oh god, he even blushes so prettily, this is so not fair. “Then, again, I insist. You’ve already paid me enough compliments to get me through the next month of tiresome professors and never-ending workdays.” He shrugs, his movement a bit too casual to be genuine, and then reaches up to take the portrait down from the wall. “I mean, you can just give it to your girlfriend or something, if you want to...”

Kurt stops, his thoughts coming to a sudden halt from where he was just staring at the lean muscles under the sleeves of Blaine’s tight shirt –- on the subway Blaine was always wearing a coat, so of course Kurt’s a little distracted now that he can actually see his arms.

But did he just–- Did he just try to find out oh-so-casually if Kurt’s dating anyone?

“I... Girlfriends are not really my thing,” he says slowly. Blaine looks at him over his shoulder, and their eyes meet. “And I... don’t really have anyone. Like that. In my life. Right now.”

Blaine blinks. “Oh,” he breathes out and turns to look at the portrait again. His cheeks are still a little flushed, or maybe Kurt’s just imagining things, but he could swear he just saw Blaine flex his fingers against the portrait’s frame in a way that could definitely be a nervous tell.

Kurt swallows, Elliott’s earlier words ringing in his ears. Is dreaming and pining from a far really his best option, or the best that he can do? He’s a Hummel, after all.

_What’s the worst that could happen?_

“I’ve actually sort of been pining over this guy I keep seeing on the subway every week,” he says quickly. “He seems really nice, and he’s devastatingly handsome, and he always smiles at me when our eyes meet.”

Blaine freezes with the portrait in his hands, his back to Kurt.

“I just haven’t had the courage to say anything to him yet,” Kurt adds, his palms sweating and his heart beating like the bass in that one club Elliott once dragged him to –- loud, erratic and like he’s feeling short of breath.

Blaine puts the portrait down, leaning it carefully against the wall, and then turns around to face Kurt. His cheeks are definitely a little red.

“That’s quite the coincidence,” he says slowly, “because I’ve also been pining over this guy I see on the subway every week. He looks like a model, and dresses like one, too, and he has the most beautiful eyes and the most beautiful smile I have ever seen.”

He glances up at Kurt from beneath his eyelashes, his smile a little shy, and god, Kurt could just kiss him right then and there, or at least squeal out loud, but he settles for just grinning back at Blaine like a lunatic.

“I’m sure that guy is pretty interested in you too,” he manages to say. “I mean, I bet he’d love to go on a date with you sometime.”

“He would?” Blaine asks, but then he huffs in amusement and shakes his head a little. “I mean–- _you_ would? We’re talking about each other, aren’t we?”

“We are,” Kurt laughs. “I should go soon, before Elliott decides to come looking for me again, but yes, I really do want to go on a date with you. If you’re interested.”

“I am. I most definitely am,” Blaine says, nodding excitedly and practically bouncing on his feet. Then he suddenly stops and his eyes widen. “Oh! The portrait! I almost forgot, hold on...”

He bends down and starts carefully detaching Kurt’s portrait from its frame, and Kurt watches him, following the movements of Blaine’s long fingers and the way he furrows his brows in concentration. He hasn’t know this boy that long, not long at all, but he already wants to know more, wants to become acquainted with the little quirks and habits that he has. He has never felt like this with any of the other guys he has met, the ones that were always too much or not enough, and it’s... It’s exhilarating to finally realize that his dream might match up to the reality.

With every word Blaine says and every movement he makes, he feels even more and more... _right_. Just right. And Kurt doesn’t even care if it’s weird to feel this way this soon.

Blaine rolls up the sheet of paper and then extends it towards Kurt. “Here you go,” he says with a smile.

Kurt blushes, a little embarrassed by the way he was just ogling Blaine, and takes the paper roll. “Thank you,” he says. “I still feel like I should be paying for this portrait. It just doesn’t feel fair to you that I’m getting it for free.”

Blaine purses his lips, his eyes twinkling. “How about... you buy me dinner? Since we were just talking about a date anyway. Or lunch? I’m flexible. Would that do?”

Kurt tilts his head as if he’s seriously considering it, but the permanent smile on his face probably betrays his true emotions. “You know, I think it just might. Should I give you my number or–-”

Blaine reaches out and places his hand on the rolled-up portrait, right next to Kurt’s hand, their thumbs almost brushing each other, and Kurt can feel his heart speeding up again. He’s not a very touchy person, but for some reason he doesn’t want to shy away from Blaine. Blaine must’ve pulled out a pen from somewhere at some point, because he leans closer and starts scribbling his phone number on the back of the portrait, his gelled hair and strong shoulders right in front of Kurt’s face, and Kurt feels a little light-hearted all of a sudden, so close to a boy he’s so interested in.

He inhales, and the scent of raspberries reaches his nose.

Blaine straightens up when he’s done, finishing the last number with a flourish. “There you go,” he chirps and then frowns, squeezing Kurt’s hand gently. “Hey, you still here? You looked a bit like your mind had gone somewhere else.”

“Yes, sorry.” Kurt shakes his head, and the raspberries fade away. He smiles at Blaine, and then looks down at the portrait, tracing his finger over the digits Blaine wrote on it. His skin still tingles from where Blaine touched it.

Gosh. Is this really what it feels like?

“Thank you,” he says, a little breathless. “I’ll definitely text you, okay? And we’ll go get lunch or something.”

Blaine smiles. “I look forward to it.”

“Me too,” Kurt says. “And I’ll... I’ll see you on the subway tomorrow? Isn’t Wednesday one of your regular days?”

Blaine nods, and even his eyes are smiling. “Yeah, it is. I’ll come talk to you.”

“Not if I come talk to you first,” Kurt replies and starts backing towards the door.

Blaine lets out a laugh, his eyes crinkling up at the corners –- and _oh boy_.

Kurt is so gone already.

 

\---

 

Elliott is waiting for him outside the store, holding a bag full of brushes, small canvases and god knows what else, practically carrying the bag like he would a newborn child.

“You didn’t steal those, did you?” Kurt asks when he sees him.

“You seemed to take your sweet time, so I decided to pay for them myself,” Elliott explains and stares pointedly at the rolled-up sheet of paper in Kurt’s hands. He raises his eyebrows in question. “Well?” he drawls. “How did it go?”

Kurt blushes and fiddles with the paper. “He... He gave me his phone number. We’re going on a date, probably later this week, if all goes well.”

Elliott whoops and claps him on the back. “Kurt! Oh my god, that’s amazing! He’s the guy from the subway, isn’t he?”

Kurt nods and smiles down at Blaine’s phone number. It feels a little unreal, but there they are, still in his hands -– a phone number and a portrait. “Turns out he’s been pining over me all this time, but was just too shy to say anything. Just like me.”

“You so owe me,” Elliott exclaims. “You owe me big time.”

Kurt looks up. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you didn’t pay for my new brushes, even though you were supposed to, because you were too busy making heart-eyes at Mr. Subway Artist over there,” Elliott points out and nods towards the store, “and now you also got a date with said mister, all because I dragged you to the other side of town and left you wandering around in an art supply store.” He winks at Kurt. “You’re welcome for that, by the way. And like I said: you owe me.”

Kurt laughs, just as his phone beeps in his pocket. He’s too happy to be annoyed at the prospect of yet another sweater he won’t be able to afford. “Come on, let’s get moving. I’m already late from my meeting with Rachel, and I don’t want to deal with your smugness on top of that.”

“Oh, by the way,” Elliott pipes up when they start walking. “I left your number at the checkout, just in case you were too busy getting lost in Mr. Subway Artist’s eyes to actually give him your number. So that’d be him right now.”

“How did you–-” Kurt starts and pulls his phone out. It beeps again in his hand.

Elliott just chuckles. “Oh, you’re both _so_ gone already.”

 

 **From [unknown]:**  
_Hi, this is Blaine? From the art store? I think your friend left your number at the register (Mrs. Williamson is going to be teasing me for weeks, god, I should show you the note your friend left with the number), and I just couldn’t wait –- hope that’s not creepy either!_

 **From [unknown]:**  
_Anyway, would you be free for lunch tomorrow? Or dinner? Your treat, like we agreed! ;)_

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading -- please leave a comment if you enjoyed this one! ♥


End file.
